


I'll Be With You

by Winterling42



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post Ep. 88, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterling42/pseuds/Winterling42
Summary: Nott and Caleb room together. Just like usual. Right?
Relationships: Nott/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 10
Kudos: 160





	I'll Be With You

Caleb still wasn't doing much. Just sitting on the bed, where he'd been since everyone split off to their own rooms. Frumpkin was on his lap, purring steadily, but Nott hadn't seen Caleb move a hand even to pet him for a good few minutes now. He was just...staring out the window. Well, out of the glass in the doors. 

Nott finished setting aside the flowers in her hair (arranged so neatly, by color and size, on the desk they had thoughtfully provided) and went to stand on the bed next to him, still combing knots out of her hair. She tried looking over his shoulder, to see if there was anything interesting to look at. But no, there was just the street outside. And it was still raining, a little, so there weren't even any people _on_ the street. 

Much more interesting to look at Caleb instead. He'd relaxed a little, since the talks in the throne room. His jaw was no longer clenched so tight she'd thought he'd crack his teeth, and his shoulders were just a little slumped. Still excellent posture, Caleb had always had excellent posture. His hands were loose, not clenched into fists or wrapped so tightly in wire they turned purple (or black, once, she'd seen it after their fight in the Victory Pit. She'd thought it was just nerves--thought better of it, now). His one hand was resting gently on Frumpkin's back, like he'd been mid-pet and just run out of energy. The other was lying limply on the blankets, not relaxed so much as...cut, like a puppet from a string. 

Nott put a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Caleb?" she said softly. He blinked, started to smile, and then just...didn't speak. Didn't turn to look at her. Maybe, _maybe_ his head tilted a bit in her direction. That was all. 

She was starting to get concerned. This was familiar, though, was the thing. This was what he did, sometimes, after he cast a fire-ball-y spell and wiped their enemies off the map. But he hadn't killed anyone (recently), and there were no enemies in the room. Just the two of them (and Frumpkin). 

Gently, she unwound the silvery scarf from his neck, put it on the bed next to them. Caleb sighed and let her pull the jacket off of his shoulders, let himself be moved so she could drag it off his arms. He still didn't talk, not really, but his blue eyes watched her with a vaguely curious expression. Like he wasn't quite sure what to make of her. 

Nott narrated what she was doing, since a little hustle and bustle had never harmed him before. And maybe if she could get him to laugh... "Come on Cay-cay, let's get ready for bed. Got to get out of your coat to sleep, it's not cold in here. It's actually quite nice, top notch, though they should have paid for incidentals. Honestly, send us to this high-class place and then make us buy our own food? Cheap, that's what it is, I should've known your Assembly would be fucking penny-pinchers. Get your hands out of this sleeve, and--well fuck you too, Frumpkin, _I_ didn't make you move! I tried to pull the sleeve out nice and slow, and you could have stayed in Caleb's lap where you belong!"

The fey cat chirped back, loudly, his tail waving back and forth. When she looked back up Caleb was still watching the cat, the barest hint of a smile touching the corners of his mouth. Not leaned in, without thinking, and kissed his cheek. Just lightly, like she had a million times before. (Well, maybe not a million.) But Caleb turned to her, wrinkling his nose in that way that he did when he was thinking, and focused his very blue eyes on hers. 

It was kind of terrifying; Nott felt pinned in place, as surely as if he'd cast a spell. There was all of Caleb's devouring intelligence, his razor-edged paranoia and ruthlessness...but it was all dark and cold behind his eyes; there was nothing of Caleb in that look at all. 

And then his eyes fell on her mouth. She saw the edges of them soften, a single wrinkle smooth away, and before she could really process more than that he'd leaned in and kissed her full on the lips. 

Nott was too surprised to pull away (she told herself). And Caleb was _hungry_ , desperate, didn't even flinch when his lip caught on one of her too-sharp teeth. But Nott flinched--jerked back, just half an inch, to stare at him in shock, and awe, and oh yes, a shitton of arousal. _Caleb_ had just _kissed her_. He had put one hand on her upper arm, not holding, barely touching. Just the tips of his fingers pressed to her bare skin. Her _green_ skin. Each point of contact felt like a brand. 

He was still Looking at her, still as a statue but something more like Caleb behind his eyes. She recognized the aching, too-big feelings in him. "Nott," he whispered, and yes, that was her name, the one she'd made herself. "Please." His voice broke, but he didn't blink. Didn't look away. 

And her heart was too full, spilling over with things she couldn't name or say. So she leaned in to kiss him again, carefully. Caleb shivered, kissing her back, not as desperate but just as hungry as before, licking at her teeth. Nott struggled, because she hadn't even really figured out kissing with--but she couldn't think about that right now. 

She wove a hand through Caleb's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. She meant to be gentle, so gentle, but there was a moment when he winced, when she tasted his blood on her tongue, and he would have kept going if she hadn't _pulled him back_. And the sound that he made wasn't a groan, but something more guttural. Like it had been pulled out of him, and _OH_. It was like being punched in the gut, if her guts were a little lower down and also struck by lightning. 

She was going to _eat. Him. Up.  
_

When she pushed against his shoulders, Caleb fell back easy as a stack of paper, his eyes still open. Still watching. Nott straddled his chest, feeling him warm under her legs. Breathing. (He hadn't been _breathing_ before what kind of person stopped _breathing_ \--)

Caleb put his hands on her hips, holding her steady. He waited for a second, for two seconds, until she pressed her hands to his shoulders and settled back into his grip. And then he _shifted_ , under her, wriggling so that he was lying entirely on the bed instead of half off, and maybe she made some kind of noise herself, but really she couldn't help grinding down against his belly. And Caleb moaned, properly, his eyelids fluttering closed. It was such a good sound, loud and low and needy, and she _loved it_.

But he went still, put the back of his hand over his mouth. Kept his eyes shut, so that Nott felt a horrible cold trickle of fear cut through her. She leaned forward, her mouth dry, and she could hear him whispering, "do not...I'll be quiet, please, don't stop, don't--" and it had seemed to work before, so she took his hand and kissed him. It was still sloppy, she didn't know what she was doing, but he kissed her back fiercely, so maybe it didn't matter. 

His hands slid up the backs of her calves, over her arms, rested for a moment on the back of her neck under her hair. And it wasn't enough, he was warm through his shirt but his hands were _burning_. She wanted more of that. Nott sat back, scooted down so she could get at his shirt hem--and Caleb _bucked_ under her, letting out another moan that he immediately choked off, eyes wild and chest heaving. 

And maybe it was silly of her, now, to think _could I have done that?_ Or to worry, suddenly, that he had been _pretending for her_. But she looked back, over her shoulder, and, well...his pants had always been very tight. There were some things you could fake, but that one was pretty hard to (in her head, Jester laughed). Nott leaned back, put her weight on her ankles and Caleb's waist, and saw him Watching her again. His pupils were wide and black, his lips red and worried with her kisses. His hair pulled loose around his shoulders, but it was _Caleb_ , it was unutterably _Caleb_ looking at her, and he could _see_ her and he still...

Feeling a little overwhelmed and more than ready to _stop thinking_ , Nott did not so much 'take his shirt off' as she 'ripped it into several pieces.' Caleb laughed a little, finally, just a small chuckle but she felt something unwind deep behind her ribs. He was okay. He was Caleb, and he was okay.

And she'd seen him naked before, plenty of times, she could trace the lines of him in her sleep. But she had never seen him like this, all blushed up and pretty for her. She ran her hands over his soft skin, catching how his eyes slid half-closed, how he arched into her touch. Trembling. His nipples were bright red and hard and when she smoothed her palms over them he made a sound like he'd been punched. So she did it again, and he might have said her name but it was lost under the whine. 

Even like this, though, even sitting in Caleb's lap in her nightdress and him begging her to keep touching him, Nott didn't like looking at her hands. They were, still, goblin hands, gnarled and green and--she would rather curl over to put her mouth on him instead, lick delicately at a nipple and run her hands down over his ribs. Caleb bucked again, and she could feel his skin like fire along her inner thighs, against her cunt. She could barely feel his ribs, he was still skinny but he was so much healthier now, he was _better_ now.

Caleb put his hand up under her dress, pressed a thumb against the lip of her mound _._ HARD. "Nott," he said, and again, begging, " _please_."

They didn't manage to get his pants all the way off. She started to, but then his dick was _right there_ , and she'd seen him naked before (she and Caleb didn't hide from each other) but she'd never seen him like _this_ , hot and thick and already leaking. She _wanted_ him, so much, and she didn't give him more than a chance to gasp before she licked her palm, grabbed him, and slid herself back down in one smooth pull. 

Caleb YELLED, trembling under her, both his hands twisted in the sheets. Let out a quiet little, "huh, huh, huh," like he was trying to be quiet but he _couldn't_. Nott _hoped_ ick-a-dick was watching, she would have _paid_ to see his face when she rocked her hips, just a little, and Caleb hissed like Frumpkin, grabbed her waist with both hands.

He barely lasted. Two or three thrusts and he came deep inside her, his whole body locked tight but not frozen. Here, he was here.

It wasn't nearly enough. She was on fire, Caleb had _lit her up_ and there was no way--

(Had she ever felt like this? Ever? Like THIS?) 

(No.)

She rolled off of him, scrabbling at the hem of her dress--but Caleb got there first. 

His hand was so, so gentle when he slid it between her legs. His clever fingers pressing into the wetness of her. She wrapped her hand around his wrist, want-- _needing_ the pressure and the movement...there, There, THERE--

Afterwards, they were both still. She rolled her head sideways to look at him--really _look_...

And he was smiling. He was grinning so hard his face might crack, even though his eyes were still closed and his breathing just now starting to slow. 

"Caleb?" she whispered, suddenly worried again. But he only rolled onto his side and put his arms around her, holding her so close she could hear his heartbeat (still fast, but strong).

"Nott," he said, not even whispering. Barely breathing the words. "We are both sticky messes." 

When she stirred, to go get water, a spare towel, he only held her tighter. "Don't--" he said, and then, more audibly, "We are messes together."

And she really didn't want to move, still boneless from that fucking amazing orgasm she'd just had, so she...didn't. Slowly, she peeled herself out of his arms (he was worse than Frumpkin, honestly) and threw his stupid Xorhassian pants on the floor, and bullied him under the covers for the night. She climbed in after him, pressed her cheek up against his shoulder blade...because he was soft, and warm, and loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr at [critical-ramblings](https://www.critical-ramblings.tumblr.com)!


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